Missing Memories
by Syhlfide
Summary: Entry for the "Mentalward Contest" - Bella goes missing and Edward is the only lead. Drugged, institutionalized, and at the mercy of a criminal-psychologist, Edward's dreams seem to be the key to finding her. AH


**"Mentalward" Contest**

**Pen Name**:Syhlfide**  
Title**: Missing Memories  
**Summary**: Bella goes missing and Edward is the only lead. Drugged, institutionalized, and at the mercy of a criminal-psychologist, Edward's dreams seem to be the key to finding her.  
**Word Count**: 9451

_For any other information, submissions, or rules please go to:_

www (Dot) fanfiction (Dot) net/~mentalwardcontest

**This is my first attempt at writing Twilight fiction, it's a bit fucked up, but hey - you are reading MENTALward. I enjoyed writing this story and I do hope you enjoy reading it. **

**I want to thank 4lettrwrd for being a wonderful pain in the arse - she got me to writing and was my main beta, You're fucking awesome! **

**Don't have much to say, but enjoy the mindfuckery.**

* * *

Shadows on the wall and hands everywhere - so many blotches of black, so much blood; I watch it seep to the edges of the platform I'm standing on, and I hear screaming like I've never heard before - the type of screams that send shivers down your spine. My restful heart beats reverberate in my ears as I stand there just watching. So beautiful.

The taste is still so fresh in my mouth.

I come to life in small specks of black and white, the buzzing sound of silence ringing in the back of my head. My jaw feels as though an elephant danced on it, and my head - oh gracious god; it feels as though it's been drilled with a chainsaw

Where the fuck am I? How the fuck did I get here? Was it?… did I?… I can't remember - not a fucking thing.

I slowly lift my aching skeleton from the frozen concrete floor and try to adjust my senses to my surroundings. It smells like a crack-whore's kitchen in this place. The floor is smooth, with irregular markings, and I can't see yet, but I hear distant moans and groans, some clinking and scratching.

Fuck. Oh my God, it's bright. Who decided to turn the entire universe's lights on at the same time?

There's banging at a metal door, seemingly right next to my ears - sounds like a steel drum exploding. "Get up, you! Appointment with The Doc at 3pm - sharp."

Doctor? What?

I haven't seen a doctor in ages - why would I make myself an appointment with one? Well, maybe he can give me something for this splitting headache.

And why, for the sake of all that is good and fucked up, am I behind a locked metal door, having orders shouted at me by God-knows-who? This really isn't an inviting waiting room - he shoot his interior designer; a blind monkey could do a better job. I don't get the whole 'stone-age-modern' look that everyone is going for these days.

My attention shoots to the creaking slither of light in the door frame, expanding till only the silhouette of what looks like a bear is visible before me. I hope that this is only an illusion brought on by whatever gave me this headache. The bear whispers and moves closer, before grunting, grabbing my hands and wrapping leather cuffs around my wrists. He tugs at the restraints, moving towards the corridor, pulling me along.

Apparently, I'm not a guest...

The fluorescent lighting in this place makes my skin look so pale, and while following the bear to his lair, I notice that I'm barefoot and wearing a pair of hideous looking old-man pyjamas. Why would they take my clothes? Or tie me up, for that matter? Bastards...

My thoughts grind to a halt as we stop in front of a gigantic door made of sultry dark wood, the brass handles curved like two hands reaching out to take yours... The bear knocks three times, and a soothing voice beckons us to enter.

The office of the infamous 'Doc' - the belly of the beast.

It smells like sandal wood and cinnamon. Wow, how intimidating doc.

The bear motions me to a plastic chair that situated close to the big wooden desk - everything is so neat and symmetrical. I think the Doc needs to see a shrink.

"Thank you, Emmett, you may wait outside," he nods gently at the bear, "I will call you when I require your assistance."

Before Emmett turns to leave, he looks me in the eyes and clenches his fists with a fleeting thought of - watch yourself or I will rip you limb from limb, and feed you to my fish in tiny little pieces. Fuck. The bear needs to see a shrink too.

"Good afternoon, Edward. How are you feeling today?" The Doc as turned his gaze to me from his seat behind n his desk. He keeps looking at me, with his hands in prayer position against his chest. He stares at me with anticipation through his circular pale brown, thick rimmed glasses (more like telescopes from the 50's), but not necessarily interested.

Keep your mind clear, don't let him into your head, don't let your thoughts give it away…we need to get the answers from him. The Doc's pulse is strangely controlled, given the thoughts running through his head and I get the feeling he's not here to help me.

"Afternoon, Edward, how are you doing today?" (He just stares blacking at me, still waiting for me to answer his first question. Focusing hard on his planned strategy and getting slightly frustrated with silence throwing him off.)

"Well, I think the service in this place is terrible, and what is it with the awkwardness around here? And Doc - can I call you Doc?"

"Most cer-" I catch him off guard with my interruption.

"Good. To get straight the point, - what am I doing here? And how did I actually get here?"

"Would you like something to drink, Edward? Coffee, tea, milk or some water, maybe?"

"A double espresso would be first prize, but I figure a cup of coffee would be great, thank you."

"Surely." He presses a button on the phone, leaning in to the speaker. "Sandra, would you mind bringing me my usual and then also a glass of water for Mr Cullen here." (Speaking a bit softer and closer to the speaker.) "And Sandra, remember the plastic cup for the water, please."

(He rests back into his chair, repositioning himself as before, and refraining from answering my previous questions, he continues.) "Edward, how do you feel today?"

(Is this guy deaf or just fucking stupid?) "Well, Doc, I would like to know what is going on here, what am I doing here?"

"We will get to your questions soon, what we need to find out is how you are feeling?" (There is a knock at the door and a scrawny librarian looking woman shuffles into the office with a tray. She quickly glances at me, frightened she shifts her eyes back to the shaking tea cup on the tray. Don't look at the patient, don't look at the patient, don't look…) "Thank you, Sandra, you may leave now."

He places the plastic cup with water on the edge of the desk closest to me. Picks up his cup and swifts it in front of his nose, closing his eyes while smelling the fresh fragrance of lemon and mint. Mmmm, lemon and mint, decadence.

Unexpectedly he speaks again. "So, Edward, were where we? Yes, I remember, how are you feeling today?"

(O, my god, this guy is a moron.) "Doc, I'm fine, besides for the headache, but I need…"

"I see, just fine you say, and you are suffering from a headache, I see, interesting." He nods his egg shaped head gradually up and down, taking a sip of his tea. Need some more sugar.

"Doc, I can't remember how I got here, or why the fuck I am here, wherever here might be, in the first place."

"Don't remember, you say. I see." Memory suppression or mind tricks? I should watch my step with this one, they warned me about him.

"Who are they and why would they warn you about me. Memory surpres…"

"Edward, I know what we can do to help you. Flash cards." Brilliant, he will never know the angle I am going for. He gets up from his seat with a little hop in his step, heading towards one of his book shelves. I only notice now how unbelievably short this man is, and his pants are pulled up under his armpits, giving the impression that they are four sizes too big for him. His shirt is neatly tucked in, with his Tom and Jerry tie precisely in the middle of his neck line. His brown leather shoes are well polished and both laces as tied exact, while his jacket cuffs are just to long for his arms.

"Edward, be patient with yourself, and give yourself time to adjust. This exercise will just be a warm up to our next sessions. Edward?"

"Ya." What is it with the service in this place, even the 'espresso'-water tastes shit. "This is not the best espresso I have had, but hey, when in Rome, do like the Romans do. Right, Doc."

"Yes, Edward." Do not get distracted by his mind games, stay on track. Start with the cards. Seated comfortably back in his chair, the doctor shows me the first of a stack of these 'flash-cards' of his. "What do you see, Edward?"

(What is it with this guy and saying my name, it is starting to freak me the fuck out. What is this fucking place, with their fucking bear-men, bad service and bug-eyed deaf miniatures calling themselves doctors?)

"Well, that looks like abstract art to me." Next one. "And that one, well, would you look at that Doc, more abstract art. You must give me this artists name, he is extraordinary."

"Edward, try and look at the images, but really look at them, look at what they are trying to tell you."

Next one. "Ok. That one actually looks like, uh, uh, a forest." (I sound kind of surprised, even to myself) Next one. "And that one looks like…a woman laughing happily." Next one. "And that one…well that one looks like someone's beaten in face, and that one…a man hanging upside down with his blood being drained from his main artery…" The Doc's heat rate starts to irregularly jump a beat and O, my goodness, mother of Mary. I really hope he doesn't get frustrated with me. I might have to adapt my perspective here a bit, before I give the Doc a heart attack or something. "But, that one looks like a butterfly on a flower, and" Next one. "that one looks kid with a lolly pop and a puppy.

It seems to be working, because the Doc's agitated pout is slowly forming a little smug. "Well done, Edward. We seem to be progressing. I feel confident enough to move forward with our session schedule." I told them that my subtle approach will be more effective than their aggressive way. He places the flash cards neatly in line with a book on the left hand side of the desk.

"Edward." He pauses for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to find all the courage he can muster from the depth of his gut. You can do this, just stay calm and don't appear to be afraid of his reaction. Ask and respond as casual and professional as possible. Make Mommy proud. "So, Edward, where is she?"

"What? Where is who?" I expected an arbitrary question, but this...this doesn't even come close to making sense.

"Edward, where is she? What did you do with her? Is she still alive?" Persistence, don't give in. "So, Edward, tell me."

"Doc, I really have no idea who or what you are talking about. Still alive? What is that suppose to mean?" This guy is really fucking crazy. But I need to keep myself restraint, maybe if I keep on asking him the same questions he will give away some more information on this madness, so I can fucking try and figure out this clusterfuckery.

"Edward, you need to tell me where she is. You need to tell me whether she is still alive and what you have done to her. So?"

"Doc, I don't fucking know, I don't remember anything since…since.." What is the last thing that I remember? Fuck't more god damn questions!

"Edward! I need answers from you. I need you to tell me where…"

A growl rages up into my throat, the muscles in my hands and jaw tense up, and I lose all control of my emotions… letting loose my anger like a demon locked up inside me…

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I push myself up out of the chair, making it fall back onto the floor. Standing like a tower above the Doc, staring down at his distraught figure. I watch his chest rapidly moving, and his eyes widening in fear… it makes me feel powerful. I taste blood in my mouth…

"Edward…please…" He really looks afraid of me, why? What does he know about my capabilities that I don't have any recollection of?

I step toward him. Intimidation will be my key to sucking the answers I need out of him. The next moment I have two gigantic arms rap around my chest with full force, creating bone crushing compression on my chest and rib cage, and then a cold prick in my neck… sending liquid relief to all my muscles, my anger, my mind…

***

The spring wind carries her scent to me, making my whole body tingle – it is intoxicating. Watching her is like being on my own personalised drug. She is so tender, even the sun only touches her skin softly. Even though I can't hear her thought, she still mesmerizes me. I want her. I need her.

She will need me. Soon.

***

I now find myself walking up a darkened street, heading for an entrance to a dodgy looking bar. She told me that I am welcome to come and join them for drink here, if I wanted to… of coarse I wanted to, I had to.

Inside the music aggressively beats against my ear drums, but I search for her… she is on the dance floor with the lights dancing on her beautifully soft skin. The rhythm of the music seems to be making love to way she moves her body… I have to bite my bottom lip to ensure myself composure.

God. She's an epiphany. She's mine.

***

All the muscles in my body tense up as I try holding him down. I dig my knee into his chest, press my forearm to his throat and place my mouth next to his head… I whisper into his ear. "You should've stayed away as I told you."

I take my knife from its holster, look at my reflection in the clear blade, smile down at him and just nip at the skin in his neck. A few trickles of blood extrude from the newly formed wound, it's so beautiful in the light of this full moon. I wonder if I she is pondering the moon as I gaze at it to?

I bring my attention back to this perpetrator. I catch a droplet of his blood on a glass slide, closing it with another, whilst whistling the tune of her favourite song. After placing the blood slide in my jacket pocket, I look him straight in the eyes, give him my best smile and slit his throat.

I have to quickly stand up from his convulsing body; to not get any of his blood on my new pair of slacks (she said she liked it). I enjoy watching as the colour fades from his eyes, and the blood ripples into the tar cracks of this abandoned alley way. I probably shouldn't forget to set up the scene of this heinous crime caused by drugs and money, wouldn't want those responsible to walk free, that would just be tragic.

***

I wake up in a cold sweat, my head spinning, my fists clenched, and my body pushed up hard against the corner of this dark room, and once again the taste of blood in my mouth…

BELLA! Bella, Bella, who are you? Why is your name running circles in my mind. Bella?...

There is a hammering at the metal door and I almost spin my head off in an attempt to focus my attention. A faded light in the centre of the room goes on and a plate is shoved through a compartment that immediately closes again. Would you look at that, room service.

I have no interest in what biological experiment is dished up onto the plate in front of my, so I rather use the knife provided to carve this name into the walls. Not the easiest thing to try and do on concrete, but at least it keeps me occupied for a while, keeping my mind away from all the unanswered questions.

The two little blue pills on the plate next to some mooch looks the most appetizing. I am hoping it will help me sleep, because it must be better than staring at the empty colour of the walls, the dark corners of this small compartment that is inefficient for human residence, or pondering the same name carved across the entire left wall…

Bella.

***

She comes bubbling down the stairs straight into my arms. I hold her gently, but firmly enough to let her know that I will never let go. She bursts out of my embrace with the excitement of a 6 year old that just received a meter long candy cane, and it is all hers.

She tells me about this friend of hers (I don't care to remember his name) that has a band and they have their first gig tonight at this bar somewhere or another, and he invited her as a VIP. She does this excited little bounce accompanied by a little squeak – she is so adorable.

***

This one is at least fighting back, I always enjoy a good challenge, and it makes the kill so much more worthwhile. The few punches to the face already have him bleeding all over the place. This just makes watching him try to get a decent punch in quite hilarious, and every time he misses he stumbles past me, just to receive another blow to the ribs.

But enough of playing with my prey, I need to get down to business. I give him one more powerful blow to the chest that drops him against the ragged gate at the end of another deserted side street. I am so grateful for these dark corners of the city, with the silence of the buildings and the blindness of those surrounding it.

I bend down to look him directly in the face. I nip an open part of his neck with my knife (Bella bought me this one, such a good girl). I retrieve a little droplet of his blood on the glass slide, close it up with the other one and place it firmly in my pocket.

"You shouldn't have tried your luck, asshole." I give him a modest tap on the cheek and artistically slit his throat. I lick my lips, while looking at his body going motionless. I'm hungry. I wonder what Bella has made for dinner.

***

I have gotten use to the taste of blood each time I wake up, but smelling it was new… This smell seems to have come from my knuckles. I open up my hands and put them out in front of me to look at them properly. The crimson liquid still fresh and bright on certain parts, but then the darkened dry type on others – this action of anger of defence must have happened more than once to be able to have this effect.

I try lifting myself up by pushing my stiff body up with my arms. Fuck. Every nerve in both my arms tighten up and burn like fire through my skin. God damn't. My memory has already decided to say 'fuck u' and not work, and now my body is taking the same route and give in. Why don't you just lock me up in a dark corner of nowhere…o, wait, too late for that, and I don't even get a t-shirt.

The latch of my metal door clicks open and Emmet the bear enters, apparently its play time again. I am not in the mood for hustle and bustle, so I stand up, and put my wrist out for him to cuff me. I still don't understand why I am being treated like a crazy person out to slaughter everyone…

We head in the same direction as before and stop at the same beautiful wooden doors, but there is something different about it this time round… music… I hear music playing on the other side. Calming classical music, it is soothing, if I must say so myself. As the door is opened and the conditions of the lighting changes, so has the smell. I breath it in deeply, the fragrance raps around me and I immediately recognize it – it smells like my father. An uncomfortable lump forms in my throat, making it hard to even breath through my mouth. Father.

He is facing the window, observing what is going on outside with intense concentration as if he cares what is happening. This doctor is different, this doctor is someone else. He is about my height, strong shoulders, hands held together behind his back, and has his head slightly stilted. He is standing at ease in a pair of beige slacks, a white shirt and a stylish vintage jersey. No tie. He doesn't look fake or pretentious to me.

"Were is The Doc? I frighten him away." I giggle sarcastically.

"To be honest Edward, yes. And good morning." He is still staring out of the window. "Please have a seat where you are going to be comfy. Thank you, Emmet."

His is so restful and his thoughts are all composed. I should buy Esme some flowers, it is the season of her favourite, so a fresh bunch could just lighten up her evening. A considerate husband. I wonder how Jasper's baseball game went today? And Alice… my beautiful daughter, humph, such a handful, but a blessing none the less. A family man. Back to Edward, I have a feeling that I need to approach him with some understanding. A nice guy.

[This is all very strange to me.]

He gracefully turns around to face me and tranquilly directing his apology at me. "Excuse me, Edward, I missed your mumbling there for a moment, say again."

Caught off guard my train of thought heads for a ditch and I just gasp at bubbles supposed to be words. "What? … O, I, huh, I was just…huh…thinking out loud, probably, I think."

"Well, we are here to share your thoughts, so you can just as well continue if you like." He moves closer towards me, but stops to position himself on the one edge of the desk, with his one leg up, the other slightly lifted (but still on his toes), and his arms neatly rested on the levelled knee. He looks at me with his golden amber eyes burning with interest.

Not knowing what to say after the whole prior situation in this office, I just shrug, look down, and fiddle at the piece of thread unravelling from my one hand cuff. I snort and mumble under my breath that I don't know. I don't know, and really I am not in the mood for caring right now either, so maybe if I nod at all the right places and huff once or twice, he will let me leave without any real interaction necessary.

"Ok. I feel the tension building in your muscles and know you plan to just occasionally grunt and hope I let you leave here with just a few intellectual scribbles on my note pad. Well, sorry to rain on your brigade, but I am not going to cut you loose so easily. You interest me, Edward. I want to know what goes in there." He tip-taps my forehead; making me flinch a little at the unexpected contact and rush of energy.

Who is this guy? And what does he want from me?

"Fine, little lamb, I'll start. So, my name is Carlisle Cullen. I have a wife; Esme, a son; Jasper and a daughter; Alice. I love playing baseball, reading old vampire novels and sushi. We have a Golden Retriever named, Rosalie, she is quite a bitch, but extremely protective of our family. I enjoying going camping with my family; the hiking up the mountains and hitting the raptures are my favourite. Esme adores the horse riding part of our trip. Humm, what else can I say about myself… O, yes, I despise onion, and I am petrified of geese. And of coarse, I am a doctor. I specialize and criminal psychology, it is quite fascinating." He shifts slightly on his spot, but does not really move. He looks at me, awaiting a response or even just eye contact. But, I'm not interested in his fucking onion fetish or…criminal psychology. Wait, what?

I give a quick glance up to him, but try to make him not notice my sudden attention to what he has to say. Cri – mi – nal – psy – cho – logy… I study criminal psychology. Shit! With all this confusion I didn't even think about the fact that I'm supposed to be attending class… hey, does he know this about me? Did he just say that to get my attention, to get me to like him?

"Why the deep frown, Edward? Seems you have a speeding train of thought going there. Care to share."

"Criminal psychology."

"A, yes, I thought you might catch that one, but don't get your muscles to much in a knot, I am not going to try the whole reverse psychology-thing on you, because that would just result in us both talking each other into spirals, never mind the circles."

I actually don't know what to say. This doctor either knows his stuff, or might really want to…well help.

"So, Edward, am I going to have this whole session with myself or end up talking to the walls for entertainment sake, because don't worry, I have all the time in the world."

I look at him from underneath my eyelids wondering. Wondering about many things for that matter…

"Fielder."

"Fielder?"

"I'm a strong fielder in baseball. And I played for most of my years at school, but stopped when I got to college, because they didn't offer it. Was quite bummed, but o, well. Had to focus on my studies anyway, I guess." He hangs on my every word, still on his same little spot with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for me to continue. I might as well, we are not going to go anywhere else anyway, it seems. "I went to high school in Forks, I had a puppy once. Her name was Lily. She was very playful and had this pretty little patch on her right back leg that my mother noticed looked like a heart - quite ridiculous, but sweet. But one day I got home from school and there was no tiny squeak-bark greeting me at the front door, my dad just gave her away. That was the first time my heart was ever broken and the first time I ever felt the urge to..."

I stop myself mid sentence, not thinking it was appropriate or even intelligent to say 'kill something or someone' in front of a psychologist, almost as bad as saying fuck Allah to a Muslim - one way ticket to fucked.

"Yes..." He did not state this as a question, more as a order to continue, but I really shouldn't.

"Edward...please continue. What is this urge you felt when your father had the audacity to give away Lily without even telling you or giving you a choice or a valid reason for this emotionless act."

Wow, he did put thought into what I told him. "But I can't."

"Why not Edward? You are here in confidentiality and I am here to assist you in retrieving answers. So, you're welcome to say anything you want, you can even tell me you think the president is a pansy, if it's on your mind."

""Kill something or someone, but not in the ordinary manner in which everyone uses it as a hyperbole. Really killing someone." I have no eventually said it, even though quite relieved, I am now anticipating the doctor's response.

"I see. So did you react to your urge to kill?" He asks this very nonchalant.

"What?!" "I mean, excuse me?!" As if the answer will have no serious weight. But he did ask me whether I killed something then. "Well...honestly yes. I poisoned my father's entire fish tank of tropical fish - he really did love them so."

"Do you feel guilty or regret killing his beloved tropical fish? Or do you feel he deserved it, an eye for an eye?"

"No." I said that with more conviction then I expected from myself. But it was true. He deserved it, and probably more.

"Have you thought about killing something or even going as far as killing someone, lately?" This was a very unexpected question and I didn't really know how to respond, because I haven't thought about it until now.

"Well, does dreaming count as thinking?"

"Dreams are a succession of images, thoughts, sounds, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep. So, yes, Edward, dreaming can be considered as a form of thinking. It is just quite unfortunate that dreams are often ignored in main fields of psychology. The preferred focus point right now is not the stupidity and blindness of influential persons in the industry, but what it is that you have dreamed. So?"

This is a very open minded psychologist, and I have had trouble trying to put together the puzzle pieces of these dreams, so maybe his subtle hint of interest in dreams as part of psychology can only be helpful. I hope.

"I have been having these strange dreams in the time I have been here, but can't make out what the mean or to what they might have representation of. It is quite frightening because the dreams feel to realistic and sometimes I even have some sensory experiences, such as a after taste of sorts."

"These dreams might be the key to all the answers Dr Strauss noted you kept asking, apparently quite continuously."

"Well, that little hobbit of a man didn't even give me a basic answer to any of them, and to put the cherry on the top he didn't even ask proper questions himself. He just kept repeating the same lame question over and over and staring at me with this blank expression through his telescopes - how did he expect to get anywhere when he kept himself running around in circles like his foot was hit into the ground." I look at Carlisle, realising that I might have just insulted a colleague, but instead I find a small grin spread across his face.

"He is a bit of a... what would be the best way to say this in civilized conversation ..."

"Toss pot." "Oeps, that wasn't supposed to come out of my mouth, it was just meant to be in my head. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, because that is exactly what I was thinking. But, we seriously need to get back to why we're here. Speaking about the 'why', do you know why we are here, Edward?"

I haven't thought about that question for a while, because I tried so hard to get it from The Doc, which I just gave up on trying and even thinking about it. But this time the question came from the doctor himself, not me.

"Well, no. I can't remember anything that happened to be prior to waking up with a immense headache in a smelling concrete box. I would really like to know though, if there is any possibility of that."

"Edward, being the doctor I need some sort of information to know what I need to look out for and what things I need to read between the lines and listen to. But I can only give you bits and bobs of information, because I signed a contract of silence of certain facts and I don't want you to ponder of it, rather than putting your mental energy into answering your own questions first. Is that in order with you, otherwise we can leave it and not speak of it again. What do you think?"

I really want to know and really need to remember, but he seems to know what is the best, because it is right, if he gives me too much information it will distract my thoughts or even influence my thoughts. "Let's take what we can get and work it from there, Doc."

"Right then. They are apparently looking for someone that went missing a few days ago and they believe you can help find this person. So that is way you need to share as much as you can with me, so we can maybe give them a few pieces of the puzzle in finding this person. You think we can pick your brain and unfold your dreams to give these gentlemen a helping hand in their search?"

Who is this somebody? Are they a friend of mine? Why not just come up to me or invite me for a coffee at a dinky dinner and just ask me as much as they need? Why throw me in a room the shape of a match box and have me cuffed every time I exit the compartment of unanswered questions? But, this is all the information I am going to get, so I might has well accept it and play along, and not get sidetracked by it. "Sure."

"Good. Tell me about these dreams we have been having."

***

This one didn't want to stop screeching like a pregnant banshee, so I had to shove a cloth in his mouth and tape it shut – high five to the inventor of duct tape. It's not my fault he dared to touch my little Bella-girl, so all I did was dismember his hand. It fascinates me – precision and pressure is necessary to ensure a clean cut through human bone, it is actually very brittle considering the structure.

Watching the pain surge through his entire body is captivating. But, I must say his squealing like a slaughtered pig is getting on my nerves, although the rushing river of blood has me transfixed.

I still want him to be conscious. For a while, at least. He starts convulsing slightly as his body goes into shock, such a giant now morphed to a twitching pest.

I wipe his sweat and tear drenched face with a piece of his own shirt. I bend down onto my haunches in front of his limp figure, resting my elbows on my knees, playing with my knife between my fingers. I tilt my head a bit and give him a playful ruffle through his hair. "So young and naive, but so motherfucking stupid." I shake my head in disappointment at him and he just stares at me with pleading blue eyes.

I slit his throat.

***

Sex and death – What else could a psycho like I ask for? Bella-girl didn't ask where I was; just kissed me hello. My incredibly intoxicating girlfriend gracefully slips out of her tight skinny jeans. Now only standing in a pair of blood red underwear.

She has already pushed me backwards onto the bed, wanting me to watch her undress. She stalks closer to stand between my legs; sliding her tiny hands up my thighs. I want to feel her skin on mine. But her eyes tell me to be patient – it's her turn to play...

A bolt of ecstasy rushes through me when she grabs at my leather belt and starts taking it off with her mouth. I'm holding my upper body up on my elbows, but I don't know for how long. My head falls backwards as she holds her fingers over the top of my jeans, clawing nails tracks. The force with which she rips my jean off my legs made me so hard I growled.

Digging both sets of claws into my outer thighs, giving me a sadistic little grin. She lifts her one eyebrow tauntingly and shakes her head slowly side to side when I attempt to come up to her. Ordering me with a glance to stay. "Down boy, down..." Fuck, this girl is perfect.

She slides forward, placing herself centre over me, bites my bottom lip so hard, I taste blood... and then...

***

I am in Carlisle's office again. We have been at this for four days now. I am emotionally drained and really getting frustrated with this place. I want to go home. I want to be with Bella.

Bella. It took me two days to actually open up to Carlisle about Bella, because I was afraid he might tell me that she is only a figment of my imagination, a perfection I created in my dreams to help me cope with all my inner turmoil and what not... yada yada yada. But he knew I was keeping something from him and eventually got me to give in and tell him about the most amazing thing ever created, and how she is so real to me.

He decided that today we would continue on the topic of Bella.

My sweet sweet Bella.

"Good morning Edward. How are you today?"

"Fine. Just tired of this place and it feels like we are going nowhere slowly."

"I understand it is frustrating, but I do believe that we are getting close to more and more important details. Just hang in there. It will all turn out for the best."

"Fine." I cross my arms and sigh like a naughty child upset about not being allowed to go Disney Land with his imaginary best friend.

"Edward." He senses my frustration and certain loss hope for my situation, but stays calm and determined. Keeping it up for both of us. "In yesterday's last session you told me about a dream/memory where you and Bella where planning to elope together in secret. She had her bags packed and was busy packing yours when you told her that you had something important to attend to so she must go ahead and you will meet her there."

"Yes, she asked me what it was and I still pulled her into my arms and whispered that it was a secret. I told her that it was a surprise that she would really love."

"What happened after that?"

"She looked at me with her big beautiful brown eyes and told me to promise that I would meet her there. Promise that we will run away together and live happily ever after. Promise that I will never leave her." I would never leave her,

The longest three hours of my life passed by slower than 8am Catholic mass. I paced up and down the few cubic meters of my rat box, tensing up at the faintest sound - strung anticipation.

I would never abandon her, she meant the world to me. I still want to run away with her and give her the fairy tale she always dreamed of. Yes, I might be a villain in the tale every now and then, but it is to protect her, to keep her Wonderland in place.

"Yes." He waits so patiently for me to continue. I don't know what this would help, because I am here and she is not. She is....

"The cabin!" I remembered. I know where she is waiting for me. I know where the rest of my life is!

"What?! I mean, excuse me?! The cabin?!" I caught him just off guard as I caught myself. But he seems extremely interested and eager to hear more about this cabin.

"The cabin...it's where I am supposed to meet her, meet my little Bella. It's where she is waiting for me."

"Fantastic, Edward, this is great news. So where is this cabin?"

There is a different energy of excitement and tense anticipation about him. Why is this so important to him? What there that he is not telling me? I need to know. I will know.

"Why do you want to know so badly, Doc? What is it to you?"

"Well, Edward... this gives us even more proof that Bella is real, like I told you I believed her to be. So this is a great step for us. Don't you think so?" He looks me in the eyes, but that split second of looking to his left gave it all away. I knew he was hiding something. I needed to know what was going on in his head. You need to tell him the complete truth. You need to tell him that it is Bella that they are looking for. It's Bella who is missing and they can't even get hold of her on her cellphone. Not even when using his.

Bella. It's Bella.

"It's her, isn't it? It is Bella they are looking for. She is missing and that is why I am the only key to finding her. Right!" Why didn't I figure this out earlier? Stupid, Edward, you have been so stuck in your own head, you missed the clear as day signs right in front of you. Idiot. You need to find her. You need to save her. You promised!

"Yes. It's..." I interrupt him before he can even start with his pathetic excuse for an explanation. I don't care. I care about Bella.

"Doc, I don't care what you have to say right now. We need to go find Bella and make sure she is ok."

"Great idea, Edward. I..." I interrupt him again.

"No, WE will go get her, and there is no negotiating that. Either I go with or I don't tell you where the cabin is." He didn't even try to argue with me. I figure he realized this was a fight he was not going to win.

What is taking so long? Where are they? It's not like they need to build the van or ask the president's permission in person...

Bella. Soon.

I hear the greatly awaited and familiar shuffle of Emmet's feet near my door - they must have news! Standing frozen on the spot I stare wide eyed at the door that will hopefully bring outcome and solutions. Emmet enters and beckons me closer with a grunt and a nod. I stand there transfixed for about a minute before moving towards him with arms ready to complete our ritual of wrapping the cold leather cuffs around my wrists. It doesn't bother me anymore, because she is all that matters now.

Bella. Really soon.

Emmet assist me into the backseat, closing the door behind him, preceding to enter on the other side and seat himself next to me. They obviously need to keep an eye and a stern hand on me - like I would try to escape when they are giving me a free lift to re-unite with Bella, truly moronic asses.

Dr. Carlisle walks down the pathway to the van with a concentrated frown on his face, but his thoughts seen to give away his uncalculated uncertainty of our outcome. We need to find her. Everything leads there, but it's been a week. She might not be there anymore or... no, I can't think about something like that, he truly loved her, he wouldn't, and not even his overpowering possessiveness and almost psychotic obsession will allow it. Carlisle. Focus.

Yes, Carlisle, you're right - I do love her and would never harm her in any way. She is my everything. She is mine.

Surely, this had to be the longest trip of my life. It feels like the scenery is passing by, but the van is stagnant. Trying to pass the ages, I thought about the sessions of the past few days. I have grown to respect Carlisle as a doctor and as an individual. We spoke about the dreams I've been having, as well as Bella. It took me a while to share my Bella with him, because I had started to fall in love with her and I didn't want him to tell me that she was just a figment of my imagination - perfection conjured up in my dreams.

We discussed certain aspects of my life, we dissected my dreams and once, we just sat for an hour listening to Debussy in his office. I didn't feel like talking and he didn't force me.

During these sessions, more and more memories started to come back to me - things started to come back to me - things started to become clear, and I realized for the first time that she WAS real. Bella was my real little - Bella. Carlisle ordered me an espresso to celebrate the breakthrough. Unfortunately, a shot of Jack was forbidden, for both of us.

The van takes a sharp left, onto a gravel road and I am awakened from my ponderings by the irritated grunts of the driver. It's the first time I actually notice the figure sitting behind the steering wheel - gaunt and dirty-blonde with four days stubble over his tensed jaw. He doesn't like his job.

We are travelling on the uneven road leading deeper into the forest. It's darker and denser the further we are lured in by the path. We are getting so close now - I can feel it in the marrow of my bones. It's like I can sense her presence...but something feels... cold.

We turn left into a slither between trees that lead into a 30° bend to the right. As we sail around this narrow bend I see the cabin protruding gently from the arms of two giant willow trees at the edge of the pathway. The vision of this beautifully oaked little cabin sends electric pulses through my skin from my toes to the tips of my ears.

No more waiting Bella. Now.

The driver has been whistling some annoying southern song all the way, but he stops midway through the chorus (I presume by the repeated tune) as he also notices our small square destination. He parks the van a few feet away from the steps leading to the closed front door.

Carlisle starts getting out of the passenger seat glancing at the front door every few moments. I expect, or it is more of a 'I hope', to see the beige colored curtains to shifts slightly and see her peek through in anticipation or even charge through the front door in excitement. But there is nothing. There is no one. I start to stress, but I know I need to stay composed and keep my mind clear.

Bella - I'm here.

Lost in my own mesmerized moment I didn't realize that Emmet has also stepped out of the van and is already standing at my open door, waiting. So I step out and smell the freshness of the air now surrounding my head. It's so fresh it makes me dizzy for a minute or so. Emmet takes hold of my cuffs and motions me forward towards where Carlisle is standing at the bottom of the cabin steps. He stares me straight in the eyes and keeps his gaze on my until I am standing right next to him. He looks at the door, then back at me. I answer his nonverbal question with a single nod. None of us are saying a single word, maybe we are too afraid to or we just feel it's better not to. The situation as not called for any form of verbal communication, so we will stick to the eye-ing each other and the occasional nod.

We carefully approach the door and Carlisle gives a standard three knocks. All three of us wait silently and tune our ears in for the faintest sound of movement inside. Nothing. So Carlisle looks at me and I shrug in ignorance, so he knocks again, same as before, just a little harder in case it wasn't loud enough. She might be in the bath or even asleep, for that matter. She is o, so beautiful when she sleeps. I remember the nights I actually enjoyed my insomnia; the nights I spent at Bella's where I would have her curled up in my arm clinging to me like a teddy bear. I would follow every wrinkle of her of my shirt she was wearing, how it shaped around her sensuous curves and listen to the slow beats of her heart as it would rhythmically collide with her breathing as she dreams. I always wondered what images interacted in her dreams. I wanted to know everything about her. Her being my everything. Being mine, for no one but me.

Once again, there's no answer - not even a gesture of a sound.

Carlisle asks Emmett to "Please take a walk around the cabin and surrounding area and see if you notice anything out of the ordinary. Also, keep an eye out for Bella's car."

"Red truck," I correct, without a moment's thought.

"Thank you," he says, "A red truck then. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

Emmett gives me one last glare of warning before he releases his grip on the cuffs and goes down the steps, heading towards the left side of the cabin.

Carlisle turns his attention back to me. "I think we should just go in. "You can walk in front so that she isn't frightened by an unfamiliar face. Are you ready for this?"

"Of course. I've been waiting this for long enough. Let's go."

Without further prolonging, I step forward and as a habit, I grab the door handle, turn and push, but nothing - it's locked. Slightly irritated, I tug at it once or twice in both directions and angles, but it doesn't budge. I look at Carlisle, back at the lock, and back at him again. He knows exactly what I want to do, so he gives me an agreeing nod. I step back a few paces, steady myself, and centralize my strength to my hips and force it through my muscles of my right leg as I direct a powerful kick at the lock of the door. A loud crash and the flying of splinters in various directions is followed by the front door creaking completely open, and still bumps into the bookcase behind the door, I remember the bookcase, we almost broke it once when we were...

Carlisle nudges at me to go head into the cabin. I obey without any further delay. Her smell washes over me just as I enter the cabin, and I take a moment to breath it all in. I have missed it so much, almost like a junkie misses his fix, just better. She was definitely here. I look around the cozy room; she has made it feel so homey and welcoming, she has always been so good in making people feel comfortable and welcome. I wasn't always, well ever, so keen on people around her. I started to get used to her family and close friends, but strangers, don't even go there. I was even uncomfortable with her best guy friend getting to close to her or spending too much quality time with her. 'Get away from my girl you gay douche, she is mine and only mine.'

Even after the racket of kicking the door down there was still no sound of movement or anyone, just a faint dripping coming from upstairs.

Emmet walks in just behind me and tells Carlisle that Bella's truck is parked behind the cabin, and the engine is cold, so it hasn't been used for at least a few hours. Everything else looks relatively normal and nothing seems out of place. He asks whether we have discovered anything, but all Carlisle has to say is that we have not yet found anything, but we will. We will indeed.

I decide to be the first to speak, but I still keep it a whisper. "I think we must split up."

Emmet immediately gives Carlisle I look of disagreement, but Carlisle answers calmly and objectively. "I don't think that is the best plan, because we don't want her to freak out when she sees a stranger in the cabin, rather her see you with us, and we still have unfortunate protocols to adhere to, so Emmet will have to stick with you all the way, anyway, so we can just as well look for her together. Agreed?!" He gives me a stern look, but there is also a fragment of worry in his eyes. He wants to be careful, but at the same time he wants to find her.

"Sure, so come along Big Bear (I give Emmet a little smug), let's go check out upstairs, (I look at Carlisle) I heard dripping when we entered, it might be a start." Carlisle nods in agreement and also tilts his head slightly and nods at Emmet to follow me up the stairs. As the three musketeers we cautiously amble up the stairs, Emmet uncomfortably close behind me and Carlisle just behind him, scanning the area. The dripping I heard from the front door gets louder the higher we head up the stairs, it is definitely from the bathroom. It might be nothing, but it couldn't hurt to just check it out. It's an annoying sound, so even if I can just tighten the tap to make it stop it would be great.

At the top of the stairs I can see the bathroom door slightly ajar and light coming through it as from the window. No obscuring shadows of someone standing at the mirror - she wouldn't be standing there anyway, because we have already made enough noise for her to know there is someone in the house. My muscles tense up and the nerve in my neck jumps as I reach out to push the door open with my flat palm (already sweaty from the tension and adrenalin). I push the door slightly and the light floods into the hallway and blinds me for a moment, but after my eyes adjust I see the inside of the bathroom clearly, and I see her...

All the blood in my veins seem to rush to my brain simultaneously, all sounds deafen out, my body clenches into itself and my eyes are locked in their sockets, staring at her body in the bath...asleep in crimson water... I feel my entire body rage, and I know a screaming sound exits my throat and collides in an echo with the four tiny walls of the porcelain bathroom. This can't be her, this can't be my Bella, this can't be her white walled tomb, this can't be her laying in a porcelain coffin, a envelope of goodbyes on the side, and covered with her own silk red sheet... it just can't be. I refuse to believe it. This is just one of my bad dreams, it has to be.

I have to hold her, I need to feel her against my body, I need to know that she is real, and just sleeping - I force my lifeless body to run to her, but my action is intercepted by a forceful and violent tug at me chest. I recognize the strength and comprehend that this muscular tug is Emmet trying to hold me back. Bastard, he needs to let go of me, before I make him. I need to get to her, I need to wake her up, even though my knowledge of death and being able to identify characteristics of blood tells me that she is no longer... no I can't think it... I try and fight forward with all my strength to get from his grip. I hear yelling in the far distances of my mind and I know its Carlisle trying to talk to me, but I don't care, I just force forward.

I bring my elbow up fast and force it down hard against Emmet's face and I can feel a crack where my elbow hit his nose. That split second of shock was the only moment I had to wrangle out of his grip and run for the bath. Everything seems to be happening in slow motion around me and I just can't get to her fast enough. Bella, I'm here, I'm here, I promised!

A very powerful thud at the back of my head makes everything around me go into stop motion

and my destination,

my Bella,

fades into a spiral of black and

disappears completely...

Bella. Bella. Bella. Bella...

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